Sobre a importância de se escrever com técnica

Escrevo poesia em sonetos.
Decassílabos, sempre, e com rima!
A métrica também não desanima,
Inicio, então, com dois quartetos.

"Seus versos são, contudo, obsoletos!"
O moderno a isto me intima.
"Há um jeito mais fácil que se exprima",
Assim tentam calar-me com seus vetos.

Não entendo que fiquem inquietos
Pois aqui não há nada que oprima:
Facilmente, estamos nos tercetos.

Termino reforçando tudo acima:
Meus versos já estão todos completos!
A arte novamente se sublima!

Filipe Fedalto - 14/01/2011

Sobre dores, felicidade e esperança

Ultimamente sinto um cansaço
Tão grande que atinge até a alma.
Nada, nestes momentos, me acalma,
Porque é muito maior a dor que passo.

O alento que procuro vem escasso.
Há muita angústia, mas nenhuma calma.
Tanta opressão me mata, me desalma…
Esta realidade é que abraço.

Meu relato, no mínimo, apavora;
Sofrer o mesmo? Igualmente assusta.
Porque são trevas, dores, espinheiro.

Mas hei de acrescentar, sem mais demora
Pois a felicidade a chegar custa,
Mesmo que no momento derradeiro!

Filipe Fedalto - 14/01/2011

Sobre a solidão

Suspiro inquieto à solidão.

Sinto, cada momento, amargura
Que machuca, me fere, me tortura
Sem nenhum momento de mansidão.

Ainda vejo, ao longe, a imensidão,
Ainda sinto amor, paixão, ternura,
Tento não esquecer a formosura...
Mas já se foram, com exatidão!

Não sei mais o que é certo ou loucura,
Mas sei que se aproxima a escuridão.
A tristeza anda às voltas, me procura.

Não há como negar a lassidão,
a dor que minha alma não atura.
Quem me libertará da escravidão?

Filipe Fedalto - 07/01/2011

Anseios de uma senhora

Ansiava por ir-se embora

Esta jovem senhora Andreza.
Mal podia esperar a hora,
O que causava grande tristeza.

Que triste! Uma dama aqui chora!
Pois desejava ir com presteza...
Mas quanto mais sofria a demora,
Mais aumentava sua beleza!

A vontade de ir se aflora,
Mas o tempo aqui não se preza
A auxiliar esta pobre senhora.

E o tédio se vem – com destreza!
Para ir-se ainda vai uma hora.
Digo isto com toda a certeza!

Filipe Fedalto - 17/12/2010

Random depressive thoughts - part 3

People embrace one another with ulterior motives. Only death is willing to embrace us despite who we are or what status have we achieved in life.

Happiness is defined by instantaneous moments of extreme joy separated by a endless times of umbearable boredom.

Boredom. Boredom. It's a hound always chasing us. And it always catch us, no matter how far we do run.

Boredom is the proof that humans are shallow beings with a hollow core. When all we shoo away all distractions and we turn to look into ourselves, there we find boredom inside the deepest hollow.

Boredom is just like a 3sq. mt. prison cell: it allows you to know that a world exists - through its windows - but you absolutely can't grab it.

What's really so impressive about M. Night Shyamalan's Sixth Sense movie famous quote, "I see dead people"? Everyone seems just as dead to me.

Random depressive thoughts - part 2

The darkness occludes. The light obfuscates. Either way one only sees blurry images.

One deep breath. One more heartbeat. Each drags me further unto my inevitable demise.

Money: an unrealistic concept upon which everyone agreed with so that they could acquire mostly unnecessary goods in order to cause them a fake happiness that will never be, in fact.

Achievement: a delusional mark that one manages to get himself convinced to reach so that he falls into the deception of not looking so fool and useless as he actually is.

Depression: one's personal encounter with the unbearable emptiness that exists in one's heart.

Willpower: the substance that fuels the fool's dull mind driving him in a senseless direction until he realizes he can't really accomplish anything at all.

Life: the short period during which a man struggles between his sinking and his certain drowning.

Quality of life: false concepts which the idiot thinks he can't live without.

Random depressive thoughts

Humans's unfortunate doom is their unavoidable tendency to place their happiness in the future.

A flower is born. For just a moment it is beautiful and fresh. Yet, soon it crumbles and turns to dust.

A day begins. The sun rises and sets. There comes another one. A repetitious cycle that only death can hope to terminate.

A vortex of emptiness is the human being: one's always missing something, longing for more, and more, and more.

One's own existence - the boundaries in which his pain dwells.

Definition of society: a group of shallow people struggling to bear each other in order to run away from the even greater terror of facing their own truth, should they find themselves alone.

Definition of dreams: utopic goals one forces into his mind so he may be able to turn his eyes away from his own reality.

In one's mind another empty spot is met.
Into this place a new dream is set.
In his life begins a new thread of vanity.
A torture embraced. The end of his sanity.

Definition of Another Person: a mirror that can truly reflect and expose one's own truth, hidden in the shallow that exists behind the thin layer of one's insincerity.

Smile: a scary mask one bears to shoo-away other people's threatening scrutiny.